


been trying hard not to get into trouble, but i've got a war in my mind.

by secretly_a_savior



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Coersion, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, only kind of hamlaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Utilisez-moi, Alexander. You can play the married General and I can play the young, eager secretary. Don’t go! What does she have that I don’t?”<br/><br/>Alexander practically snarled, crouching out from the wall and crossing the room.<br/><br/>“Are you sure you hail from France? The French are known for their tact and seduction.” Alexander fired, his chest practically hollow as he avoided the bitter truth to the Marquis’ words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	been trying hard not to get into trouble, but i've got a war in my mind.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kendall.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kendall.).



> this was gonna be daddy kink filth for kendallahollagetdolla but ?? it got sad hurt/comfort real damn quick???  
> this doesn't fit into any of my !verses.
> 
> this was born in drama class when we got way 2 into the schuyler sisters and "daddy doesn't need to know" happened.  
> more daddy kink whamilton is coming i promise, my friends. 
> 
> also do y'all notice i literally use the same three rhetorical devices in all my fics??? AP lang got me fucked up i'm tryna change my syntax n shit.
> 
> COMMENTS VALIDATE MY EXISTENCE IF YOU READ THIS COMMENT EVEN IF IT'S CRUEL.
> 
> OH ALSO "alligherian" means like- of dante alligheri's divine comedy, yeah? nine circles of hell?? solid thanks.

 

                Valley Forge was nothing short of hell- truly Allighierian if you asked Alexander Hamilton. It made him wonder if they were doing the right thing- it also made him question his faith.  It made him wonder what he’d done to deserve it- adultery, his dubious birth, maybe? He shook that thought away- painful thoughts for another time.

Alexander Hamilton was also nothing short of privileged. He looked out the window of the home they’d claimed as base of operations at the tents that lined their camp. The snow fell ferociously outside as he wrote at his desk in the well-heated home. The base of operations also stood as George Washington’s, Lafayette’s, Hercules Mulligan’s, and his own personal quarters.

                Technically, at least, the home contained his quarters. He had a cot in a tent out there, but he’d only stayed in it twice- once before he’d moved into the house, and once in an argument with the General- happened to be the man he shared quarters with. It took Alexander showing up to work shivering and sick _once_ for Washington to crack and invite him into the home. Their affair helped that fact too.

‘ _No one can know.’_ He remembered him saying- and Alexander of course agreed. A warm bed to sleep in (on the off chance he _slept),_ , a man who cared about him, support through this hellish losing battle- of course he’d stay silent to keep that.

                No one knew except for, of course, the other men who found themselves within the walls while the troops suffered outside. Unless they were inside for business, the troops weren’t allowed inside- let one man find refuge and you had to let all of them. That’s how they all saw it- the only exception being one John Laurens, who in his spare time Alexander wrote academic pieces with. Try as he might, writing in the relentless sleet was impossible so he broke the rule for his friend. Despite their shelter they faced the same insecurities as everybody else. No supplies. Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten- occasionally he’d go without on purpose so the others would have more. It was only fair- he got warm shelter, the others were fed.

                Washington, who’d taken a protective stance over Alexander, but as Lafayette had so _astutely observed_ wasn’t present, tried to make sure his right hand man took care of himself- especially now that they were, at least somewhat, romantically involved, but Alexander resisted most of the time. He knew when he needed sleep and he knew when he needed to eat and he knew when his work was more important, damnit. Speaking of when his work was important…

                “Lafayette, your concern is admirable but I’m _fine._ This paper needs writing.”

                “You have been writing all day _,_ mon ami.”

                Alexander rolled his eyes, toes curling with irritation as pen furiously scrawled against paper, only leaving it as long as it took to re-ink it.

                “There are more productive things to do than _write,_ Alexander.”

                Alexander put his pen down for a moment to shoot a glare at the Marquis, who sat on the edge of his desk with his legs crossed.

                “Like what?” He inquired, standing from his chair, just to confront Lafayette and stretch for a moment. With his question, the Frenchman jumped from the desk and approached Alexander, each step carefully placed. His shoes clicked on the hardwood floor.

                “We could get to know each other better- more... _how do you-_ intimately, _non?”_

Alexander “definition of promiscuity” Hamilton frowned and bit down on his bottom lip with uncertainty. With each step that Lafayette took forward, Alexander took one backwards. It didn’t feel right, going behind Washington’s back. Their relationship was forbidden, but that didn’t make infidelity acceptable.

                Maybe it did- Alexander knew he was the General’s side-piece. He knew he’d always take the backseat to Martha- maybe he ought to introduce some of that jealousy into older man’s life. As that thought struck him, he stopped. He was against a wall, all of a sudden. Literally cornered. Lafayette grinned and leaned in- not close enough to kiss him though. Just close enough to be intimidating.

                “I can’t betray the Gen-“

                Lafayette hushed him, pressing a single finger to his lips with a smirk.

                “Daddy doesn’t need to know.” He replied, his smirk going from playful to suggestive extremely quickly. Alexander’s face went bright red at the mention of the nickname he’d _very occasionally_ used for Washington. _Goddamnit,_ how did Lafayette know?

                Regardless of how the other knew, he was close to Alexander, and speaking once more..

                “ _Utilisez-moi,_ Alexander. You can play the married General and I can play the young, eager secretary. _Don’t go! What does she have that I don’t?_ ”

                Alexander practically snarled, crouching out from the wall and crossing the room.

                “Are you _sure_ you hail from France? The French are known for their _tact_ and _seduction.”_ Alexander fired, his chest practically _hollow_ as he avoided the bitter truth to the Marquis’ words.

                “We are also known for our _brutal honesty,_ my dearest Colonel.”

                Hamilton cringed at the mention of his rank- he didn’t need or deserve the rank, he wasn’t allowed to lead men, let alone get out in the trenches with the men. It was needless- it was a pity decoration.

                “And so, allow me to be honest.” Lafayette about-faced and began approaching the shorter man again. “You _are_ something I want, and I have something you want.”

                “And what is that?” Alexander asked, swallowing hard. Lafayette was attractive- and it was an attractive offer. Washington was due to be gone for another whole day, Mulligan was off schmoozing the Redcoats. They had a few hours at very least. He waited for a response with piqued interest.

                “Exclusivity. At the drop of a hat, say I’m yours and you can have me.”

                Alexander sat back at his desk, steeling himself. He began to write and ended the matter by simply shaking his head. He could do this- Washington had done so much for him. He _cared-_ he couldn’t and wouldn’t leave him. Even if it was for Lafayette who was- objectively- stunning. He had a lean, almost feminine frame and even through the hell they were living he remained well groomed. His hair remained tied back with a ribbon yet somehow still framed his well-shaped face. His dark skin was soft, too.

                Alexander shook the idea from his mind and kept writing. He was working on a letter for George- a plea for advice from one Thomas Jefferson, who was America’s liaison to France for the moment. Just as he went to re-ink his quill once more, Lafayette was standing right before the desk.

                “I can’t believe you stay with him in good conscious. He’s a good man, Alexander. He has his vices- namely, you- but he speaks to God just the same as you or I. He’s a _married_ man and yet you steal his attentions.” Lafayette sighed melodramatically. He was playing dirty, now, playing on Alex’s guilt and insecurities.

                “Shut your mouth, Lafayette. I think of you as a friend but that’s going to change pretty damn quickly if you don’t lear-“

                “You talk _so much._ It’s hypocritical, mon ami.”

                Alexander crossed the room, around to face Lafayette- which wasn’t a good idea. He was attempting to be intimidating, but he failed horribly, as he was an entire seven inches below the Major General’s height.

                “Then shut me up!” He asserted, damn well knowing it’s connotation, and before he could count to ten there were lips on his. They crashed into his and he let it happen, pushed into it even, feeling strong hands on his arm. He muttered a curse against Lafayette’s lips as he felt a tongue slip between his own lips, and stepped the tiniest bit closer. He heard what sounded like footsteps, but he was completely lost in the lips on his and the all-enveloping grip he was succumbing to and was that a third hand? He was forcibly removed from the Frenchman’s grip and he whined the slightest bit as he opened his eyes.

                His whine quickly came to a halt as he saw who it was pulling him from the Marquis. George Washington stood before him, fuming. Fuck. Had he held out for two extra fucking minutes, this wouldn’t be happening to him. He caught sight of the hurt look on Washington’s face and if he wasn’t so dehydrated, tears would be welling up in his eyes. He felt like he was having an out of body experience.

                Lafayette scurried before the General could say anything and suddenly Alexander was in the house alone with an extremely angry George Washington.

                “I came early because I wanted you, and I find you  getting intimate with a trusted associate?” he asked, hurt more than rage behind his deep blue eyes. Alexander felt shame and shook his head.

                “He speaks in tongues, your Excellency. He practically jumped m-“

                “You were kissing him back!”

                Alexander frowned, rolling his lip between his teeth.

                “I’m sorry. I’d never hurt you- I-“ Alexander stuttered, unsure of what to say. He let himself feel small, instead of standing up for himself, and threw his arms around the older man. “I was afraid you don’t need me anymore.” He said, the words muffled by the fabric of the General’s thick uniform. He breathed deeply as he felt stronger arms wrap around him, comforted that at least for the moment, he could be willingly held by the other.

                Anger immediately caved to sympathy- or maybe just shifted to be aimed at Lafayette instead of Alexander. He understood why the writer felt that way- he felt like a bad person even letting all of this happen, but he was too involved to hurt Alexander now. He cared about him immensely, and if he was honest, the younger was a perfect cure to his loneliness and stress in these trying times.

                “You’re married and I’m just a _toy_ and I don’t think what I feel is-“

                He cut Alexander off with a hush and he let him catch his breath. The author hadn’t realized it, but his heart was beating at least a million miles per hour- which couldn’t have been good, all things considered.

                “Shhh- I’ve got you, son.” Washington said, shaking his head. Despite his marriage, he loved Alexander. How could he not? He was devoted, he was attractive, and he had the most brilliant mind that Washington had ever seen in his time on Earth. He was talented in more ways than one, as well.

                Alexander practically collapsed under the endearment, even further as he felt familiar fingers pull his hair from it’s tied position and run through it repeatedly, running through a few tangles.

                “Your hair’s breaking in my fingers, Alexander.”

                Alexander just shrugged, breathing in the other’s presence deeply- it was sinful how comforting it was. George would find any reason to become protective. It was _almost_ sickening. He appreciated it on some level though, without the man’s nagging he’d’ve starved to death at his desk months ago. Speaking of nagging;

                “When’s the last time you ate?” The older man asked with a high degree of concern in his voice. Alexander suddenly wished he’d scurried off with Lafayette.

                “I don’t remember.” He said honestly, biting back a lie. It would’ve been so much easier to _lie._ ‘ _Today, sir. I took a nice long nap and then woke up and drank water and ate well. I haven’t touched a pen all day!’_

                “You need to eat.”

                “Can I lie down instead?” He offered. He couldn’t imagine that George had any sort of appointments- he wasn’t due back until tomorrow. They could climb in bed, sleep- among other things- and Alexander could forget about Lafayette’s unsettling advances. After the day’s events and his companion’s absence for the past few days, he just wanted to be _close_ to the man. He needed affirmation.

                “Only if you wake up in time for supper.” Washington practically commanded. Their relationship was strange in that way- his commanding rank seemed to follow him everywhere, even, occasionally, into the bedroom. He made sure Alex took care of himself and didn’t fall ill, as well as he made sure Alex was respectful and productive. It balanced well, somehow.

                “Of course, sir.” Hamilton offered, pulling the other off in the direction of the bedroom they shared, glancing only briefly out the window at the miserable soldiers trudging through the sleet. He slid into the bed easily and found himself wrapped in strong, warm arms, working with the fireplace to combat the intense chill outside.

                Valley Forge was hell- nothing short of Allighierian if you asked Alexander Hamilton- but if **_this_** is what he’d done to deserve it, he’d happily live through it until his dying days.


End file.
